


The Worst Date

by jackabelle73



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-11-16
Packaged: 2019-01-04 23:12:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12178353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jackabelle73/pseuds/jackabelle73
Summary: Detective Weaver is enjoying a drink at Roni's Bar and a young woman who seems familiar to him, enters with her date. When her date acts inappropriately, Weaver is only too happy to offer assistance.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based partially on s7 spoilers. Don't read if you're trying to stay spoiler-free.

Weaver raised his glass to clink against Rogers’.

“Congratulations on your promotion, and here’s to many years as _Detective_ Rogers.”

“Thanks, Weaver.”

“How’s it feel to be out of uniform?”

“Gotta say, I’m liking it.” Rogers tugged on his leather jacket with a cocky grin, drained his drink in a single gulp and turned to raise his glass to Roni, asking for another.

Weaver sipped his drink more slowly, swiveling on his bar stool to survey the room. A young couple in their twenties occupied a table by the window, chatting and smiling over their appetizer. A quartet of college students, all girls, had taken over a booth toward the back. Their giggles carried to the front of the room, but they were keeping it under a tolerable volume. Two regulars camped out on their customary stools at the end of the bar, nursing their fourth or fifth drinks of the afternoon. Roni would cut them off before they got too sloppy, and make sure they had a safe ride home.

“Another, Weaver?” Roni asked, setting Rogers’ refill down.

He shook his head. “In a bit.”

She nodded and went to check on the college girls. Weaver didn’t bother wondering if they were old enough to drink. Roni wanted her customers to enjoy themselves, but she also wanted them to stay safe, and all activities in her bar stayed on the right side of the law. The fact that the local police department was half a block away and had picked her establishment to hang out in, probably helped her to keep everything legal in her bar.

The door opened and two men came in to take a table with a good view of the flat screen TV showing highlights from last night’s game. The door had barely closed behind them when it opened again, and a couple came in, eye-catching in their contrast.

The young man was well over six feet and had the muscular frame to match; he clearly spent time in the gym. He entered with the assurance of a man accustomed to having things his way, his eyes scanning the room to find his preferred spot. His gaze settled on a table by the window, in the corner behind the couple already there, and with a hand on the back of his companion, urged her toward it.

The woman was… a vision in a bright yellow dress, entering calmly and bringing sunshine with her. Chestnut hair spilled over her shoulders in perfect loose ringlets. Her petite frame seemed even smaller in comparison to the man; she barely came to his shoulder. She glanced toward the bar and Weaver got an impression of bright blue eyes, though she looked away too quickly for him to be sure.

Something clenched in his gut as she went with her date to the table he’d chosen, her skirt swishing as she walked. Weaver turned back around to the bar, telling himself to get a grip. The flash of familiarity he’d felt, a feeling that he’d learned to respect, was surely wrong this time. He was certain he’d never seen this woman before. He’d remember someone as beautiful as her. Yet, there was something about her that called out to him, as if he knew her.

He finished his drink quickly, just to give himself something to focus on, and relished the burn as it went down. He raised his glass to Roni as she returned, and she reached for the top-shelf Scotch, pouring him another drink.

“Be right back, gentlemen,” she said, leaving again with a tray.

Rogers only nodded in an absent-minded way, his attention on the TV. Clips from some sort of charity match were being shown now, with many of the players clearly not professional athletes. Weaver tried to focus on the sports as well, but could hear Roni behind him, taking an order from the table where that hauntingly familiar woman sat.

He stared at the TV without really seeing the action, till Roni came back. She picked up a cloth and started wiping the already clean bar in front of them, speaking in a low voice.

“Gentlemen, don’t look now, but I want you to help me keep an eye on that couple in the corner.”

Weaver straightened, fighting the urge to look. Rogers looked away from the game, sports forgotten as cop instincts took over.

“You think something’s wrong over there?” Rogers asked.

“I’m just getting a bad vibe,” she answered, still feigning interest in wiping the bar. “The man put the woman in the corner like he was trying to pen her in. In the time it took me to take their order, he made two sexist jokes which she clearly wasn’t comfortable with. She made a reference to this being their first date, so I’m thinking she may not know him well.  They’ve been here five minutes and already she looks like she wants to leave.”

“Got it. We’ll monitor the situation,” Weaver assured her. He felt sure he would have noticed anyway, had anything started to go awry at that table. His senses were attuned to that woman, as if he was drawn to her. But he appreciated Roni being aware as well; he knew that even if she didn’t have two plain-clothes detectives sitting at her bar to back her up, she would handle any situation that made a patron feel unsafe.

Roni moved to the computer to put an order in, and Rogers turned slowly on his stool, pretending to check out the college girls in the corner. One of them noticed him looking and winked back, tossing her hair. He winked back and continued scanning the room. Watching from the corner of his eye, Weaver knew exactly when he focused on the couple. Rogers’ body tensed, ever so slightly. He watched nonchalantly for a few seconds more, before turning back to the bar.

“Whatever that guy’s saying to her, it’s drawing the attention of the couple at the next table. The woman has a sour expression and the man looks like he wants to jump up out of his chair and confront the sexist pig.”

“And the lady in the corner?” Weaver asked. He’d started thinking of her as “Sunshine,” but he could hardly call her that to Rogers.

“Looks like she wants to be anywhere else.”

Rogers went back to watching the game, but he’d be on alert in an instant if needed. Weaver took his turn at casually surveying the room, as the door opened and three more people came in. It was just after 5:00. People were getting off work and the bar would be filling up soon.

Over by the windows, the situation didn’t seem to have improved. The woman in the yellow dress was stiff in her chair, with an obviously fake smile on her face as she listened to whatever her date was saying. It was obvious that he was doing all the talking.

Weaver glanced at the couple sitting next to them and saw what Rogers meant about them. The woman, whose back was to the sexist pig, glanced over her shoulder sharply as if she couldn’t believe what she’d just heard him say. Weaver could hear his voice – he seemed to be getting louder – but couldn’t make out what he was saying. The oaf’s mocking laughter carried well enough. The man at the next table had his fist balled up like he wanted to punch something.

Roni approached the corner table with their drinks and appetizer, and Weaver saw Sunshine give her a genuine smile, one that transformed her face and made him stop breathing for a moment. What was she doing with that bumbling idiot? She deserved to be with someone who would make her smile like that all the time.

Sunshine started eating quickly as soon as Roni left, and this time her date’s voice was loud enough for Weaver to hear exactly what he said.

“You like putting things in your mouth, huh? Just my type of woman.” Sunshine blanched, putting a hand to her mouth as she choked slightly before she managed to recover and get her food down. Her eyes were wide in disbelief, but it didn’t deter her date from continuing. “And even when you take more than you can handle, you manage to swallow it all. Good girl.”

Rogers had turned around again, ready to act. Roni glanced over from where she was talking to another table and saw that the cops were watching, and turned back to her customers. But her head was still tilted toward Sunshine and her date, listening with one ear.

Sunshine leaned across the table, looking livid and saying something to The Pig. She had more self-control; her voice didn’t carry. But his response did.

“Babe… it’s not like I wouldn’t find out in a few hours anyway.”

Rogers’ glass hit the bar with a thunk as he started to stand. Weaver shook his head, not taking his eyes off the action. Sunshine’s face was white with shock, unable to respond immediately, but he could see the fury building up beneath.

“Not yet; she might be angry enough to handle this on her own.”

The couple at the next table had abandoned any pretense of enjoying their meal and were openly watching the drama playing out behind them. The man had removed his napkin from his lap, pushed his chair back from the table, and was balanced on the edge of his seat.

Sunshine stood up, looping her purse over her shoulder and glaring at The Pig as she said something. His laughter rang out again.

“Storming out of here won’t do you any good. I picked you up, remember?  _I know where you live_.”

The Pig sat back in his chair, confident that he’d won this round, as Sunshine slowly sank back into her seat, looking shaken. Weaver left his stool before the bastard could pick up his drink again.

“I’ve got this,” he said to Rogers, motioning for him to stay put. He got to the adjoining table just as the young man there was standing up, and clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Sit down, son. I’ll take care of it.” The other man looked relieved.

Grabbing an unused chair, he turned it around and straddled it to sit at Sunshine’s table, reaching for the clip on his belt. He gave Sunshine one reassuring smile before turning his attention to her date. The Pig cut off his protest at having his date crashed, as Weaver slapped his badge down on the table.

“I was sitting at the bar with my brother in blue, celebrating his promotion, when I heard you make several offensive remarks to this young lady,” he said, enjoying the way The Pig’s mouth opened and closed like a landed fish gulping for air.  “And then, when she tried to leave, I distinctly heard you threaten her.”

“Oh, well… it wasn’t….” The Pig stuttered.

“Don’t bother.” Weaver shook his head. “Now, I could take you to our station and book you for sexual harassment and any other charge I can think of, but I’m off duty and you don’t deserve any more of my personal time than you’ve already taken. So here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to hand me your ID, and go to the bar to settle your bill with Roni. The whole bill, including this young lady’s dinner, because she doesn’t deserve to go hungry just because you’re a pathetic excuse for a date. You’re going to include a generous tip for Roni. And if you try to bolt,” he raised his voice just a little and glanced over to see Rogers watching, “My partner there will tackle you before you make it to the door. Do we understand each other?” The Pig gave a jerky nod, pulling out his wallet and handing Weaver his driver’s license before fleeing the table.

Weaver turned to the woman he’d been calling Sunshine in his head, to find her radiant smile aimed at him.

“Thank you,” she said, reaching out to squeeze his hand briefly and sending a shiver through him at the barely-there touch. “I knew the date was a mistake before we even got here, but didn’t think it would be  _that_  bad.”

“I, um… hoped that you wouldn’t mind me stepping in,” he said, reaching for his phone. He took a picture of The Pig’s license and checked it to make sure all the personal details were visible, not obscured by a light glare or anything else. He made a mental note of the man’s name, but decided ‘The Pig’ suited him better.

“Not at all. I’m very grateful. I wanted to leave earlier, but he drove me here. If I were back home, I’d have called a friend to come get me, but I just moved here to take a new job at the library and don’t really know anyone.”

“Ahh. And where did you move from?” he asked, just trying to think of something to say while under the spell of those too-bright blue eyes. “You… have an accent. Australian?” he guessed.

“Yes. I moved from–” she stopped talking as a large shadow loomed over them.

“I paid the bill like you said, and tipped the barkeeper,” The Pig said in a rush. “Can I… have my ID back, please sir?”

Weaver turned back to him and stood up, forcing The Pig to step back, and let him sweat for a few extra seconds before speaking. “Know that I’ve recorded your details. If you ever harass this young lady again, or if she decides to press charges for tonight, or if I just have a bad day and decide I want to ruin your life, I’ll know where to find you.”

“Yes, sir. It won’t be a problem.” The Pig glanced at his ID, still sitting on the table, but didn’t reach for it.

“Furthermore, when I get back to the station, I’m going to run your name just for the fun of it. Should any previous charges for assault, harassment, or anything else pop up, even if those charges were dropped, I’ll be knocking on your door tomorrow. And I’m going to flag your name so that if any future charges are made against you, I’ll be contacted.”

The Pig hunched in on himself, looking smaller and smaller as Weaver talked. “Yes, sir.”

Weaver held the card up between two fingers, but lowered it again when The Pig reached for it. “There’s one more thing you need to do.”

“Sir?”

“You’re going to apologize to this young lady.”

The Pig gulped, but looked across to Sunshine. Weaver had to give him credit for looking her in the eye as he voiced his compelled apology.

“Amy, I’m really, really sorry. I swear that I’ll never bother you again.”

She nodded acknowledgement, and shook her head when Weaver asked if she needed anything else from her date. He handed The Pig’s license back to him. “Go.”

The Pig snatched his ID and nearly ran, the door closing behind him before Weaver could lower his hand. He looked over to see Rogers raise his glass to him before turning back to the game. Roni gave him a grin and a thumbs-up from behind the bar.

“So, Amy…” Weaver addressed her again, after a glance out the window to be sure that moron wasn’t lurking outside waiting for her. “Will you be okay now? Do you want Roni to call you a cab?”

“My name’s not Amy.” She gave an exasperated glance in the direction her date had gone. “That idiot couldn’t even get my name right. I’m Amber.” She stuck out her hand. “Amber Livray.”

He shook her hand, again feeling a tingle at the physical contact. He tried to stamp down the feeling. He wasn’t a teenager; he was too old for tingles.

“So… a cab?” he asked again, feeling the need to get away from her before he said something foolish, something that made him sound as smitten as he was. She was beautiful, and sweet, and proved she had a spine when she told off her awful date. Something told him that she would have handled the situation even without his intervention. But she was also young enough to be his daughter and he was a middle-aged cynical cop with nothing to offer someone like her.

“I’d be happy to call a cab for you, miss,” Roni’s voice said, and he turned to find her behind him, inexplicably annoyed at the interruption even though he’d only been arguing with himself. “But if you’d like to stay and eat your meal, it’s paid for. I can always call you a cab later.”

“Actually…” Amber gave Weaver a hopeful look. “I was going to ask if you’d like to join me for dinner? You said you were off duty, right? We’re both here, and I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry.”

“Well…” Did he want to sit across from her and talk over a meal, get to know her better and perhaps offer to drive her home afterward? God, yes.

“Her date paid for both meals and ran before I could even offer to box his up for him,” Roni smiled. “I could always swap out his order for your regular. Go ahead, sit down and keep the young lady company. It’s the least you can do, since you ran her date off. You can’t leave her alone, that would be rude.”

She pulled out the chair where The Pig had been sitting, and he moved over to it before he realized what he was doing. From the corner of his eye, he saw the man at the next table throw a little salute his way.

“I’ll bring your drink,” Roni said, and left them gazing at each other across the table.

“You were telling me where you’re from,” he prompted, to fill the silence.

“Yes. I grew up in Melbourne, and moved here for university. I’m not the only one with an accent. Yours is… Scottish?”

“Good ear,” he praised, nodding a thanks to Roni as she set a fresh drink in front of him, and replenished Amber’s ice tea. “I grew up in…”

 

******

 

A year to the day after they met, Amber Livray and Detective Weaver were married at Roni’s, and she was only too happy to loan her bar for the event. She toasted with everyone else as the happy couple told of how they met, how they’d talked long after their meal was finished and then Weaver offered to see her home safely.

Amber told everyone how Weaver was a perfect gentleman when he said goodnight – “too  _much_  of a gentleman, he didn’t even  _try_  to kiss me!” – and she had to take the initiative the next day. She returned to Roni’s, where she had it on good authority that Weaver visited almost daily, with a bouquet of thank-you flowers for him and a library card. She left both with the barkeeper, along with a message to tell Weaver to come visit her at the library.

“And right over there is where it happened,” the happy bride said, pointing to the table in the corner. “That’s where I had the absolute worst date of my life… and it led to meeting the love of my life,” she told everyone, before tackling her new husband with a kiss. She nearly knocked him over with her display of affection, but Weaver didn’t mind a bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Along with s7 spoilers and speculation, this fic was also based heavily on this post: http://jackabelle73.tumblr.com/post/163849914856/what-has-been-your-worst-nice-guy-experience
> 
> You can also find this fic on my Tumblr: http://jackabelle73.tumblr.com/post/165693323632/the-worst-date


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter wasn't supposed to exist, but I got a TMI Tuesday ask about The Worst Date, and well... chapter two happened.

Amber was still smiling as she closed the door to her new apartment, her heart pitter-pattering. Only muscle memory brought her hand up to lock the door before she slumped against it with a happy sigh, feeling a giggle try to escape.

Her evening had started so awful, but was ending with this floaty feeling. It definitely improved when Detective Weaver agreed to sit down and eat dinner with her. He’d turned out to be everything that her Neanderthal date hadn’t been…. polite, intelligent, with an air of integrity to him. They’d sat there for two hours after finishing their meal, talking about their home countries and other places they’d traveled, how they’d come to live in Hyperion Heights, books they’d both read, music they enjoyed, and their plans for the future. She learned that he’d been married once, long ago, but was now unattached… a crucial piece of information.

He offered to drive her home in his unmarked police car, gallant as any knight on a steed, and walked her to the door. She’d unlocked it, then turned to say goodnight, waiting a moment to see if he might kiss her. He’d hesitated, his lips parting, and she thought for a moment he would, then he stepped back.

“This is goodbye, then.” He shoved his hands in his jacket pockets. “Remember what I said. If you want to press charges for tonight, just stop by the station.”

“Right.” She nodded in agreement, even though she’d nearly forgotten her disastrous date already. “Honestly, as long as he stays out of my life, I never intend to think about him again.”

“Understood. I’ll, um… wait till you’re inside and lock the door before I leave.”

“Of course,” she agreed. He wanted to kiss her, she was sure of it. But perhaps he considered it inappropriate; they hadn’t even been on an official date. “Goodnight. And…” On impulse, she stepped closer and gave him a peck on the cheek. Not too forward, but giving him a hint. “And thank you, for your help tonight.”

She contained a smirk at his look of shock and slipped inside, giving him a wink through the crack before the door closed entirely. And now she was here, back against the door and trying not to giggle like a school girl with her first celebrity crush.

He didn’t have celebrity looks, nor did he fit the stereotype of the gallant knight. But he’d been her rescuer tonight, and she was already half in love with his soulful brown eyes and worn features. She’d take an honorable man who could hold a clever conversation, one who’d lived life and let it show on his face, over poster-perfect looks any day.

She shoved herself away from the door, finally, and made her way through the dim apartment still stacked with boxes, to find her pajamas and get ready for bed. Her first day at the library was tomorrow, and she needed her sleep. A short time later, she nestled down into her bed, content. A new job awaited her, and a new city was out there to explore. And maybe, if she could pluck up her nerve to ask out a certain detective, a new romance was in her future as well? She was debating the pros and cons of seeking him out at the station or trying to catch him at Roni’s bar, when she drifted off to sleep.

##  ******

It was still dark when she came up out of sleep, thrashing against an unseen assailant and panicking further when her legs tangled in the bedding, trapping her. Amber groped on her nightstand for anything that could be used as a weapon, coming up with a hairbrush. It would have to do. She held the bristled end in her fist, the pointy end of the handle ready to jab into the throat of anyone ready to leap from the shadows, her skin still crawling at the memory of hands holding her down.

For a long moment she was still, hairbrush at the ready and trying to quiet her panicked breaths enough so she could listen. There were the muted sounds of traffic on the street outside, and a dog barking from somewhere. But inside, her rapid breathing and heartbeat were the only sources of noise. She peered into the shadows of the room, but nothing moved. She leaned over to turn on the lamp next to her bed, and waited for her eyes to adjust before scanning the room again. Nothing. No one was here. It was just a nightmare.

Knowing she wouldn’t be able to sleep again till she’d checked the whole apartment, she extricated herself from the tangled blankets and went from room to room, turning on every light. She looked in the closets and drew back the shower curtain that still had that new smell. She checked all the doors and windows, even though she knew by then that no one had broken in. She’d had a dream, that’s all…. but it had been so vivid.

Reluctant to go back to bed, knowing she would just toss and turn, she made herself a cup of tea and sat on the couch to sip it while waiting for her nerves to calm.

In the dream, her so-called date for tonight – she’d started thinking of him as The Pig after Weaver shared the nickname with her – had been hovering above her, his hands tight on her wrists holding her down. She could  _smell_  him in the dream, could detect the exact scent of his cologne. Was she supposed to be able to smell in dreams? And even now she could hear his voice.

_You’re going to take everything I give you, and you’re going to enjoy it. Your little cop friend isn’t here to protect you now. He might’ve given you a few hours. But sooner or later, I always get what I want. No other woman’s ever stopped me, and you’re not gonna either._

Other women. Weaver had mentioned checking to see if previous complaints had been lodged against him. She hadn’t thought much of it at the time, but now, fresh from that horrid dream, she wondered. Had there been other women that he’d subjected to the same treatment he’d given her tonight? What if those other women didn’t have a modern knight sitting at the bar? And even if he’d never abused other women in the past, there was no guarantee that he wouldn’t in the future.

She shivered despite the comfortable temperature in her apartment and the warm mug she cradled in her hands. She cast her gaze around the room in search of a distraction, wondering if it would help to busy herself unpacking her boxes, and saw a bag that she’d tossed carelessly on top of a stack. Retrieving it, she pulled from the bag the best distraction of all… a new book.

In spite of spending her entire work day surrounded by books, Amber still couldn’t resist browsing through the quirky little book shop she’d seen when familiarizing herself with her new neighborhood. She didn’t recognize the author’s name, but the sign next to the display said he was a local writer and it was his first book. Amber believed in supporting such authors.

She opened the book to the prologue and started to read.

_Once upon a time… there was an enchanted forest filled with all the classic characters we know. Or think we know. One day they found themselves trapped in a place where all their happy endings were stolen. Our World. This is how it happened…_

She turned the page and was pulled into the tale of the princess and the Evil Queen, whose feud would lead to the casting of a curse and the transport of fairy tale characters to modern day Maine. Her tea went cold beside her as she started chapter two, with its descriptions of the fairy tale characters’ real-world personas.

She glanced at one of the illustrations as she turned the page, too impatient to continue the story to take a good look at it, and then turned back to look more closely. The mysterious landlord and pawn shop owner, Mr. Gold, looked familiar in an unsettling way. Amber studied the drawing, noting Mr. Gold’s hair, worn long enough to touch his shoulders, his sharp nose and creased face. It was when she got to his deep brown eyes that she realized who he looked like. The hair was different, and the clothing was definitely different. Also, the man in this drawing looked thinner than the one she met tonight. But beyond those superficial differences, there was no mistaking that the Mr. Gold in this book bore a striking resemblance to Detective Weaver.

Maybe this author had based his characters on people he knew in his neighborhood. Amber shrugged it off and continued reading, till her eyes grew heavy and she thought she might be able to sleep again. As she slipped back under her blankets, her head filled with heroes fighting evil, she made a decision.

##  ******

Working the early shift at the library had been hell after her interrupted sleep the night before; she’d gotten through it with caffeine and stubbornness, an artificial smile plastered to her face. But it also meant that she finished early, giving her time to visit the florist down the block and still arrive at Roni’s before the after-work rush started.

She was glad to see Roni herself behind the bar again, and walked up with a genuine smile for her.

“Hi, remember me?” she asked.

“Of course. From last night. Amber, right?” Roni held out a hand and they shook.

“Yes. Good memory.”

“Well, it helps when you own a neighborhood bar. Glad to see you got home safe last night.”

“Thanks to Detective Weaver. These are for him, actually.” She nodded to the bouquet she held. “I was hoping I could leave them here for him?”

“Sure. But the police station’s just down the street, you know. Half a block that way.” Roni pointed. “He usually works the first shift, so he’ll be getting off soon. You can catch him there, or… he’ll probably come in here after work, if you want to wait a little while.”

Amber hesitated. Her plan had been to drop the flowers off at the bar, with a brief note asking him to come see her at the library. She’d even included a library card in the little envelope. But that was taking the coward’s way out, she realized. She didn’t want to leave the next move up to him and wait for him to show up.

 _Be brave_ , she told herself… a mantra she’d repeated frequently since deciding to move to Seattle several months ago.  _Just jump, and your courage will catch up with you._

“Amber?” Roni looked like she’d asked a question. “Do you want to wait here?”

“Yes, thank you. I think I will.” Amber slid onto a stool, setting the flowers on the bar and plucking the card from its holder. “I should finish filling out this card. Do you happen to know Detective Weaver’s first name?”

She looked up from rummaging in her purse for a pen when Roni laughed. Two men at the end of the bar – the same ones who’d been there last night, if she remembered correctly – were also chuckling over their beers.

“What?”

“Honey,  _no one_  knows Detective Weaver’s first name. No one. Well, I’m assuming his mother knows, and maybe his superior officer, but I have my doubts even about that. Weaver’s first name is Hyperion Height’s best kept secret.”

“Why won’t he tell anyone?”

Roni shook her head. “No one knows that either. He’s simply refused to tell anyone, for as long as I’ve known him.” She nodded at the card. “Just call him Weaver, honey. If it’s addressed to anyone else, he won’t know they’re for him.”

Hmm. Amber filed away that little mystery as one she’d hopefully solve one day, and put pen to paper. She ordered a drink from Roni and the bartender lingered after setting it down, studying Amber intently.

“What? Do I have something on my face?” Amber reached for her purse, intending to pull out a mirror.

“Of course not. You know you’re beautiful,” Roni smiled. “I was just thinking, that you’re too beautiful for Weaver… not to mention too good.”

“I’m… I’m sorry?”

“Look, I know it’s none of my business, but you’re new in town and I just feel like someone should warn you. Weaver’s first name isn’t the only thing he keeps to himself.”

“All right…” Amber wasn’t sure where she was going with this.

“The truth is, no one here knows much of anything about him, and what is known, isn’t all that flattering. He’s known as a hardass, a ruthless cop who doesn’t follow anyone’s rules but his own. So just… think carefully before you get involved with him, okay?”

“Understood,” Amber said, though she didn’t really. Weaver had been a perfect gentleman to her last night. She wasn’t going to give more weight to neighborhood gossip, than the evidence she’d seen for herself. “I’ll be careful.”

Roni continued to study her, and finally nodded. “Maybe you’re the one who can actually handle him.”

Before Amber could formulate a response to  _that_ , the door opened and Weaver came in. She saw him immediately, but it took a moment – he scanned the entire bar as he entered, probably a cop’s habit – before he saw her, and a smile creased his face.

“Well, isn’t this a pleasant surprise.”

“Detective Weaver.” She stood up, sounding breathless to her own ears as she said his name.  _Get it together._   She reached for her professional librarian voice. “I’m so glad you came in here today. I wanted to thank you, formally, for your help last night. These are for you.”

He stared at the flowers she presented for a moment, as if unsure what to do with them, before reaching out to take the gift.

“They’re beautiful. Thank you.”

“There’s a card,” she prompted.

“So there is.” He plucked it from the blossoms and opened the small envelope, withdrawing not only a florist card but a hard plastic card as well, reading aloud from it. “Hyperion Heights Free Public Library.”

“Just in case you don’t already have a library card,” she said, feeling a bit foolish now. They’d discussed books the night before, surely he already had a library card.

“I don’t, actually. I usually prefer to buy my books.”

“Well, now you have one. And you know where I work.”

“So I do.”

They stood there, simply looking at each other, till Roni cleared her throat from the end of the bar, prompting Amber to break the silence.

“May I buy you a drink? And maybe, in a little while, some dinner?” Amber asked. “There’s something I want to talk to you about.”

Roni appeared at their side with two menus. “If you’d like to follow me, there’s a booth in the back that I think you might like. It’s a little quieter there.”

Weaver, still holding the flowers, stared at her like he had no idea how to respond to her invitation, but when Roni said ‘right this way’ and started walking, like it was a foregone conclusion that they would follow her, he shook out of his trance and nodded to Amber. He swept his free arm in an  _after you_ gesture, and in a moment they were seated across from each other in a corner booth.

“Roni—” Amber looked away from Weaver long enough to smile at her. “I feel like I owe you thanks, as well. Weaver told me that you were watching out for me last night, even before he was. So thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Amber. I do like for my patrons to stay safe. Now, what can I get you two to drink?”

“You, umm…said there was something you wanted to talk about?” Weaver asked, after Roni had walked away.

“A couple things, yes. A thank you for last night….”

“I’d hardly be much of a law enforcement officer if I’d sat by and let a young lady get harassed and threatened,” he shrugged.

“Still…. thank you. You not only drove off that idiot, but then you kept me company during dinner, and drove me home. For an evening that started so badly, it… well.” She hesitated, wondering whether to phrase it this way, but made herself forge ahead. “It ended up being probably the best date I’ve ever had.”

“You considered it a date?” Once again, he didn’t seem to know how to react to that piece of news.

Roni appeared with their drinks, and as she set Weaver’s down there was a thumping noise from under the table. Weaver jumped in his seat and glared at her. Roni winked at Amber as she set her drink down, and quickly walked away again.

Bolstered by the show of support, Amber looked squarely at the man across from her. “I would very much like to call it a date, yes. But it seems to me that both sides should be in agreement about that. If you disagree, then… please let me treat you to dinner, and accept the flowers, and I won’t seek you out again.”

Amber finished her speech and sat back, her whole body thrumming, waiting for his answer.

“It seems to me that, if both sides are in agreement, this could be our  _second_ date,” Weaver finally answered. He smiled, a real smile that made it to his eyes, and finally lost that flummoxed look he’d had since she presented his flowers to him.

“Agreed.”

“And if it’s a date, I insist on paying.”

“Oh, no…” Amber cut him off. “Not happening. I asked you, therefore I’ll pay this time.” She raised her voice over his protest. “If you want to treat me to dinner, Detective Weaver, you’ll just have to ask me out for a  _third_  date.”

She stared him down till he broke the moment by laughing. “It’s a deal,” he said, holding a hand across the table. They shook and just like that, she was assured of seeing this intriguing man again after tonight.

Their hands parted and Weaver sat back, lacing his fingers together atop the table.

“Did you say there was something else you wanted to talk about?”

“Oh… yes. Not nearly so pleasant, but I suppose we should get it out of the way.” He tilted his head, encouraging her to continue. “I’ve decided to press charges against my date from last night.”

“I’m glad to hear that. He should be held accountable. But you seemed pretty sure that you never wanted to see him again. May I ask what changed your mind?”

“I had a nightmare,” Amber confessed. “I dreamed… that he was in my apartment, he was holding me down in bed and saying… very ugly things.”

“I’m sorry.” He reached across to take her hand. “Are you alright?”

“I am now.” She summoned up a smile for him, but it was weak. He squeezed her hand, waiting, and she found the composure to continue. “But the dream got me thinking – what if he has treated other women like that? And what if they didn’t have someone like you to come to their rescue? Or what if he does the same thing to other women in the future? He needs to learn that it’s not okay.”

“Agreed. Rest assured, I’ll pick him up tomorrow.”

“Thank you. I’m guessing I would have to go into the station and make a statement?”

“Yes. And I’m sure Roni will be willing to give a statement. It’ll help corroborate yours.”

“I heard my name,” Roni herself said, appearing once again.

“Yes. Would you be willing to give a statement at the station, about the incident last night?”

“Of course. And the couple that was sitting at the table next to you will as well, I’m sure of it.”

“You know them?” Amber asked.

“I’ve known Jacinda for quite a while; I’d bet my bar that she’ll be willing to help. The young man she was with last night, Henry, I just met recently when they started dating. But someone did a good job raising him, because he seems like a decent young man. My gut says he’ll volunteer to give a statement.”

“That’s wonderful. Thank you,” Amber said, suddenly feeling much more optimistic about pressing charges. It wouldn’t just be her word against her date’s. She had support, from people she’d just met in the community she’d just moved to, and it was wonderful.

“So… what charges can be filed against him?” she asked Weaver.

“Sexual harassment, for a start,” he answered. “And whatever else we can think of, once we take statements.”

“What about stupidity and unbelievable gall?” Roni asked, looking toward the door.

Amber leaned out of the booth to look, and saw her date from the night before, escorting a tall blonde woman to the same table where she’d had the worst date of her life. She jerked back into the booth, heart pounding and glimpses of this morning’s nightmare running through her mind, trying to overcome her first response to run away.

As quickly as it had seized hold of her, the fear disappeared, to be replaced by anger. She hadn’t done anything wrong. And she wasn’t about to spend the rest of her life looking over her shoulder, being afraid of that goon.

“Amber? Are you all right? You don’t need to be afraid of him.” Weaver was looking at her with concern, and even Roni seemed worried.

“I’m not. In fact…” she started to slide out of the booth. “I’m going to go over there and give him a piece of my mind.”

“Wait… I have a better idea. Why don’t we see how this date goes?” Weaver asked.

“Why? Do you think he’s seen the light since yesterday, and will be a perfect gentleman to that woman?”

“Oh, no… I’m counting on him being the same sexist pig he was yesterday,” Weaver said with a wolfish grin, and for a split second, Amber could see the man Roni had warned her about. The illustration of Mr. Gold from the storybook flashed unbidden into her mind.

“I won’t allow another woman to be put in danger. If we let their date continue, we could be doing just that.”

“I promise, nothing will happen to her, because we’re all going to be watching. But if he treats her like he treated you, she might file charges herself, don’t you think?”

“More evidence, to strengthen my case,” Amber said, realizing where he was going.

“Why don’t I go over and get their order, and I’ll keep you posted on what I see and hear, hmm?” With another wink at Amber, Roni sauntered away.

“I’m just gonna get my partner on standby. I have a feeling this won’t take long.” Weaver pulled out his phone. “Rogers? I need you to come to Roni’s and sit at the bar. Wait for further instructions.” He listened for a moment. “Trust me, it’ll all become clear very shortly.”

“Someday, you and I  _will_  have a date that is not intruded upon by that oaf,” Amber said as he hung up.

“No reason why he should intrude on this one. Ignore what’s happening over there. Roni and Rogers will take care of it.”

“Right,” she said, unconvinced. She could feel his presence at her back, hovering like a malevolent spirit.  

“You had your first day at the library today, right? Tell me about it.” He took a sip of his scotch, raising his eyebrows at her over the glass.

She smiled back at him, recognizing his attempt to distract her for what it was, but grateful for the effort.

“Well, I was hired to be the children’s librarian, so that entire section of the library is mine to run however I see fit. It’s the first time I’ve been put in charge of library programming. I’m scared and excited all at once.”

“Understandable. So tell me what you did today.” Light moved across his face and the sound of cars outside was briefly audible before muting again, and she knew from his glance toward the door that his partner had arrived.

“Well, I got thrown into the deep end first thing, because I arrived at 8:00 and we had toddler story time scheduled for 9:00, and then preschooler story time at 10:00, and a homeschool group arriving at 11:00 to do research for their science projects. No one told me that all those things would be happening on my first morning! I’d barely had time to look around a bit, before I had to scramble and think of something to present for the two story times.”

“Something tells me you pulled it off,” with an easy smile that signified his total confidence in her.  

“I did. I read  _The Napping House_  for the toddlers, and  _The Snail and the Whale_ for the preschool group, which is one of my personal favorites. I gave them a quick art project to do afterward. Then I was hopping from one kid to the next for the homeschool group, advising them on resources. In a way it was good to stay busy, because once I got started I didn’t have time to be nervous about anything. I just jumped in and did it.”

“I find that’s a good way to approach most things.”

“At the end of my shift, my supervisor complimented me on being able to think on my feet and pull everything together so quickly. I think she planned the morning like that deliberately, just to see how I’d handle it.”

“Rogers over there would tell you, that I put him through some…  _testing_  when we became partners. It’s good to find out quickly just what sort of people you’re working with.”

At the reminder of the other detective, Amber peeked around the corner to see him sitting at the bar, talking with Roni. Seeing her looking, the bartender picked up her tray and came over.

“I’ve brought Rogers up to date,” she said to Weaver. “He’s keeping watch on the situation over there. Judging by the look on the woman’s face, it won’t take long before he steps in.”

“Going as badly as it did before, is it?” Weaver asked.

“I’ll put it this way…. he made the same stupid sexist jokes while I was taking their orders, as he did last night with Amber.”

“So he’s stupid, sexist,  _and_  unoriginal,” Amber muttered. “I regret saying yes when he asked me out…. so much.”

“Why did you?” Roni asked.

Amber shrugged helplessly, knowing that any explanation would sound lame.

“I just moved here and don’t know anyone. We met in the grocery store and he seemed nice… I was trying to make connections.”

“Perhaps we could order, Roni?” Weaver asked pointedly.

After taking their orders, Roni left again and Amber asked Weaver about his job, trying to keep herself distracted.

“Not much to tell, really. Police work isn’t nearly as exciting as TV would have you believe. Mostly it’s a lot of waiting and a lot of paperwork.”

“I don’t believe that.” Amber gave him her bright smile, trying to encourage him. “What about–”

“That’s it!” An angry female voice interrupted her. “That’s the last vulgar comment you’re going to make to me, because I’m leaving!”

“Looks like our waiting paid off,” Weaver told her with a wink.

Amber looked to see the unfortunate woman storming for the door, pursued by The Pig. She didn’t question the impulse to slide out of the booth and run toward the bickering couple, thankful that she’d worn comfortable shoes for her first day at the library.

“Come back here! You don’t get to walk out on me! I know where you live, remember?”

The general feeling of dread and anxiety that Amber had had ever since she woke sweating in the middle of the night, morphed quickly into anger when The Pig grabbed the woman’s arm, pulling her back to him. Amber saw Detective Rogers approaching from the bar, and she knew Weaver was right behind her, but the squabbling couple was too focused on each other to notice the people bearing down on them.

“Let go of me!” the woman yelled, but he was holding her by both arms now, and refusing to relinquish his grip.

Oh, hell no. Reacting purely on anger-fueled adrenaline, Amber grabbed an empty beer bottle from an adjoining table and gripping it by the neck, brought it down as hard as she could on The Pig’s forearm. He yelped, releasing his date and jumping back before he turned to Amber with a snarl… which faded when he recognized her.

“Amy?”

“Amber, you imbecile! My name is Amber. And you–” she poked him in the chest— “are going… to…  _back_ … off!” She punctuated every word with a new poke, driving him back step by step as he stared at her, flabbergasted. “That means from her, from me, from every woman that you  _think_  you can control. You’ve been someone’s nightmare for the last time.”

Her attack backed him right into the waiting detective. Rogers yanked The Pig’s hands behind his back and cuffed him, which finally brought the large man out of his daze.

“What the hell? Let go of me! I didn’t commit a crime!”

“Tell it to someone who cares, you cretin,” Rogers said, as he steered the larger man forcibly toward the door.

He recited the Miranda warning as Roni held the door open and he shoved The Pig through ahead of him. It swung shut behind them and just like that, it was over.

Amber wanted to collapse as all of her adrenaline fizzled out, now that the threat was gone. She startled when a hand touched her elbow.

“Hey…” Weaver stood by her side. “Are you all right?”

“I think so. Just… I can’t believe I just did that.” She put a hand on her chest, feeling her rapid heartbeat.

“You were amazing,” he assured her. “I felt privileged to just stand back and witness it.”

The woman who’d been on the disastrous date was still standing between them and the door, looking very confused. Amber approached her slowly, and asked if she was all right.

“Umm…yeah. I’m fine, but… I’m not even sure what just happened. Who are you, exactly?”

“My name’s Amber,” she said, holding out a hand for her to shake. “I had the misfortune of being that guy’s date last night.”

“Oh my God…. he pulled the same crap with you, didn’t he?”

“He did,” Amber confirmed. “And I’m lodging a complaint against him for sexual harassment. If you’d like to file your own complaint, our cases would be stronger together.”

“Oh, hell yeah. That bastard won’t know what hit him.”

Elated that it was that easy, Amber thanked her and then waited as Weaver called Rogers and told him to expect her. He walked her to the door, pointing out the police station that was barely half a block away. He waited till he saw her enter the station, then returned to Amber.

“Shall we return to our dinner, now that all that unpleasant business is concluded?”

“Don’t I need to go to the station too?”

“It’ll hold till tomorrow. I believe you and I were in the middle of our second date.”

“Your meals are almost ready,” Roni called from behind the bar. “And your next round of drinks is on me. Consider it a thank-you for driving that guy away. Creeps like him are bad for business.”

“Shall we?” Weaver offered his arm.

Amber took a deliberate breath, trying to shake off all the bad feelings from last night, and just now. She found a smile for Weaver, even if it felt a bit forced, and took his arm.

“So, Detective Weaver…”

“That’s a bit formal, don’t you think?” He stopped at their booth, holding her hand as she sat down. He kissed her fingers, his breath wafting over the back of her hand. “My name is John.”

“John,” she repeated, celebrating internally but trying not to let it show. “Have you… read any good books lately?” she joked as he resumed his seat, trying to direct the conversation onto more pleasant topics.

“You know, I haven’t. Just haven’t found anything to catch my attention. Can you recommend something?” he asked, with a playful quirk of an eyebrow.

“Why don’t you stop by the library tomorrow? I’m sure we can find something to pique your interest.”

“It’s a date,” he agreed, and Amber was suddenly looking forward to the second day at her new job, much more than she had five minutes ago.

**Author's Note:**

> Along with s7 spoilers and speculation, this fic was also based heavily on this post: http://jackabelle73.tumblr.com/post/163849914856/what-has-been-your-worst-nice-guy-experience
> 
> You can also find this fic on my Tumblr: http://jackabelle73.tumblr.com/post/165693323632/the-worst-date


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